The grand Art of Procrastination
It’s half past eight, time to create
Lie in my bed, thinking in my head.
Pick up my phone
Play a game all alone
Look on Facebook,
Photos are ace-look!
Read a blog, pin for a while
So many things that can make a girl smile
But you must write
You must fight
Against laziness and procrastination
It won’t write itself
Won’t climb up on a shelf
At the WhSmiths at the station.
A little
kick up the butt a.k.a ‘the beginning’
Practice
every day
In any
little way
Something
is better than nothing, we say.
Find the
time, write a rhyme
Or a
short funny ditty,
No one
is judging or cares if it’s shitty.
That Paper
Money makes the world go round
That paper on the floor he found
Gives life, takes life
Without it is strife
He had nothing, he was nothing
But now....
So happy, delirious
‘A
fifty- are you serious?!’
He doesn’t care now, he’s fearless.
Fly to the moon, he’s on a rocket
Skip in his step, dough in his pocket.
Weed or ciggs, a beer and food
Maybe a prossy, ‘Nah,
I ain’t in the mood.’
While it lasts life’s a blast
Then way too soon it’s in the past
A memory of a life that could be
If he had that paper in his hand.
Life would be grand.
But in the blink of an eye it’s gone,
So fast.
The dream
A shiny castle, happily ever after
Your prince will come,
Bringing joy and laughter.
The rainbow sweeps across the sky, making dreams come
true
All you have to do is wish
Someday he’ll come to you.
Bright lights
Flying kites
This is a civilized place, please- no fights!
3D glasses for the big screen,
dinner a movie and after ice cream
We’re living that dream, that hope and a prayer.
But-caution!-don’t scratch away at the top layer
The glamour, the money, good job and house
Just keep working hard for that money
Don’t question, don’t worry
The elation of Saturday- it’s here, grab a beer!
Slouch back in your chair, with crisps and no cares
Which young kid’s dream of fame
Will be shattered to pain
For the nation to see?
‘It’s
not for the money
I love
it, it’s me.
I want
to be singin’, see my name in lights
Perform
at Wembley.
*sobs it’s my
dream, see.’
We laugh and we cry
‘Simon
Cowell don’t deny
that
young talent a chance,
He can
sing, he can dance!’
But we don’t really care
It’s quite funny, actually.
We get technology, entertainment
A trade off,
For a small payment
In return for iphones and Kardashians
Is our silence, good behaviour
They’re doing us a favour!
They perform, we conform
That’s the deal.
